In Sickness and in Health
by MysticApple
Summary: Buffy was sick. 7 years as the Slayer and she'd hardly ever caught a bug. I guess her luck has run out. Set in a time when Buffy and Spike have parted ways, Buffy is trying desperately to stop her feelings from surfacing. Spike, on the other hand, has other ideas. If he can convince her he truly cares, maybe he can win her back. Warning: Some scenes of a sexual nature.
1. Chapter 1

For the last day or so, Buffy felt steadily worse. It started with a sore throat, which was joined by a headache, followed by a stuffy nose. Only this morning, the sunlight shining through the gap in her bedroom curtains made her head feel like it was in a vice.

Groaning, she moved her hand up to touch her head and screwed her eyes shut, trying desperately to block the offending light from her vision. Great, she thought. This must be how a vampire feels, without the combustion.

Buffy didn't like being sick. In fact, since she became the Slayer 7 years ago, she rarely caught any bug. Looks like her luck had finally run out. Rolling over in bed, she checked her alarm clock. It was 7am. Grimacing, she pulled herself up and out of bed, conscious Dawn needed to get to school on time or face the wrath of the principal. God, how she ached. It felt like she'd been fighting with Glory all over again. She needed to find some painkillers and fast.

Stumbling out of her room, trying desperately not to pinball off the door frame, she started towards the bathroom medicine cabinet. Looking in the mirror only made her feel worse. Her skin was as pale as the vampires she fought, with huge dark rings around her eyes. A vague expression plagued her face. She groaned again when she noticed how bad her hair stood on end. Deciding not to make matters worse by dwelling on her appearance, she opened the cabinet in search of Advil. Luckily, there were a few tablets in a box on the top shelf. Popping them in her mouth, she swallowed them with a mouthful of water from the faucet, grimacing as the razor blades in her throat made themselves known.

Making her way downstairs, Buffy entered the kitchen. Willow was already at the breakfast bar, reading her latest book on Wiccan history. Willow glanced up at Buffy and had to do a double-take.

"Buffy! You look terrible!" She exclaimed, a look of deep concern on her face.

"Thanks, Will." Buffy croaked back, swaying slightly from the effort it took to stand in her weakened state.

"Ohhh, I didn't mean terrible...just...sick...maybe you should sit down?" Willow moved to help her friend, guiding her into a chair and helping her get comfortable.

Resting her elbows on the breakfast bar, Buffy cradled her aching head in her hands. Stupid flu bug. How she wished her advanced healing powers worked on viruses.

"I'll take Dawn to school today, Buffy. You should stay here. Rest in bed. If you like, I could whip up a sleeping draft for you so you can get some sleep?"

Buffy frowned. "It's OK, Will. I took some Advil. It'll kick in soon. I'm off today. It's nothing a day in bed can't fix. I'll be right as rain before patrolling tonight."

Willow didn't like the idea of Buffy patrolling in such a weakened state. Her balance was off judging by her swaying a few moments ago. What if a vamp caught her off guard? She wouldn't stand a chance.

"Maybe you should give patrolling a miss tonight, Buff? I mean, it's not like you'll be much help out there tonight..." she trailed off when she saw Buffy's steely glare from under her hands. "I just mean, it's not like they won't be back again...I don't want you to get hurt."

"Will, I'm fine. I'm the Slayer, it's what I do. By the time tonight comes, I'll be feeling better. Those vamps won't stand a chance." Buffy's inner voice snorted. _Yeah right! You're a goner! _Drawing herself up a little straighter, Buffy sat stubbornly in her seat. Trying to ignore her aching limbs and pounding headache. Yeah. She'll be fine by tonight she told herself.


	2. Chapter 2

The time to patrol came far too quickly. Buffy felt like her head was made of cotton wool, and her temperature was sky-high. Entering the graveyard, she found a bench and sat down. Wishing desperately to be back in her warm bed with her hot water bottle. Suddenly, she heard the familiar sound of a grave breaking open. _Great,_ she thought_, here we go._ Getting to her feet, she ambled towards the noise. It wasn't until she saw the newly risen vamp, she realised she'd forgotten to take her stake out her pocket.

"Damnit!" She muttered, desperately trying to find the opening to her jacket pocket.

The vampire heard her struggles and made a beeline for her. Buffy was too delirious by this point to understand the urgency of the situation, and it wasn't until the vamp had hold of the back of her neck, she gained her sanity. Quickly, she spun round to gain the advantage, only it didn't go to plan. The sharp change of direction and force of her spin made her fuzzy head even more disorientated. Falling to the floor, she clutched at her aching brain, forgetting all about the imminent danger shed put herself in.

The snarling vampire made a grab for her again. Buffy regained some control and kicked it hard in the chest, making it stagger backwards and fall over a headstone. _Ha! Still got it!_ Buffy thought, picking up the stake and heading on over the finish the job. Just then, she felt the beginning of a sneeze_. Oh no!_ She thought.

Trying desperately to hold her breath and prevent the sneeze, she edged nearer to her prey. Aiming the stake high in the air, the sneeze finally won. She missed! The stake entered the vampire's chest too low. It laughed a sickening laugh and brought its cold hands up to Buffy's throat. Lights started popping in front of her eyes. She coughed violently and tried to loosen its grip on her.

Meanwhile, Spike was leaving his crypt for the night. Since the chip in his brain prevented him from attacking humans, he often had to make the trip to the magic shop for some more pouches of donor blood, Willow had procured. Stalking across the cemetery, he heard a noise. What the bloody hell was it? It sounded like something was trying to clear a hairball. Gross. Curiosity getting the better of him, he ventured towards the noise. And that's when he saw her.

"Well well well, Luv. Looks like we _are_ in a pickle, eh?" Spike grinned, placing his foot on the nearest headstone and resting his clasped hands on his raised knee.

Buffy looked up from desperately trying to claw the vampire's hands from her throat. A look of sheer panic in her eyes. Why did Spike always find her in the worst situations?

"Gerrimovmeeee!" She croaked. Tears starting the stream down her face from the coughing fit she was having.

_Perfect,_ thought Spike. _Another opportunity to prove my love for her._ Ever the gentleman, he stopped chuckling long enough to wrestle the vamp from her throat. Buffy scrambled for the stake that had fallen from her grasp and hastily stabbed it into the vampire's heart. Dust flew, and she sank to her hands and knees, gasping for air.

"Good thing I came along when I did, Kitten. Looks like you were well out your depth."

"Shurrup Spike" buffy croaked, another coughing and sneezing fit soon took over.

"Are you sick, Slayer?" Spike said with raised eyebrows. In all the time he'd known the Slayer, he didn't recall her being sick once. Concern for her suddenly flooded his unbeating heart. Reaching out his hand, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and studied her intently.

Buffy moved away from him, trying to regain some composure. She was failing miserably. Her pale skin looked worse in the moonlight, and the sweat on her brow wasn't from the fight. She _never_ broke a sweat during a fight. The fever was starting to surface again after all the effort her body was under.

Spike took hold of her shoulders and helped Buffy to her feet. He was amused by the fact she was pouting. Even when she was sick, she was still stubbornly denying him a way through her emotional barriers. That gave him an idea.

"C'mon, Pet. That's enough patrolling for one night. You need a kip."

"I'm fine, Spike, just leave me alone." Buffy sniped. "I had him on the ropes, you just caught me at the wrong time." With that, she sniffed and made to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. Spike passed her a handkerchief before she could embarrass herself with such a childish reaction.

"Since when do you carry a handkerchief?" Buffy quipped.

"A gentleman is always prepared."

Buffy snorted, followed by a loud hacking cough and a whimper. Her throat was really beginning to hurt in the cold night air.

"I don't wanna go home! I've got work to do." Buffy whined.

"Slayer, unless you plan on infecting these demons with your lurgy, you ain't in any fit state for patrolling."

"But..."

"No buts, Slayer. You're gunna end up getting killed...again...shut up." Spike bristled when he saw the amused look on Buffy's face. They'd lost count how many times Buffy had died and been resurrected.

Buffy started to become more orientated and noticed where Spike was leading her. They weren't heading towards the road, but Spike's crypt. "Where are we going? My house is that way." Struggling slightly, she twisted her shoulders away from Spike's guiding hands.

"Shh Luv, my place is nearer, and if you start to feel better before sunrise, you can go out patrolling again", Spike said in a matter of fact tone. He gently turned Buffy around again and steered her towards the entrance to the crypt. _I'm a bloody genius,_ he thought. _There's no way she'll protest if she believes she still has a chance to patrol._ Little did she know, Spike wasn't about to let her out his sight for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Inside the crypt, the usual candles were burning in the entrance. They gave a warm glow to the gloomy surroundings. Buffy eased her aching body down the ladder into Spike's chambers below, her fuzzy head was beginning to protest at the situation. _Why are you here? You and Spike are done! You shouldn't be going to his crypt, especially when you're in no fit state to defend yourself! _

Suddenly, a moment of clarity caused her to start climbing back up the ladder. Spike, who was just beginning to descend, noticed her reaction. "You're meant to be going down the ladder, Slayer, not up."

"I - I can't do this, Spike. It's not right. I'm fine. I just need some more Advil, and I'll be fine." Buffy stuttered, halting on the bottom rungs of the ladder as a sharp pain shot through her already pounding head.

Using his expert skills of deduction, Spike noticed the uncertainty in her voice and the wavering of her steps. Seizing his chance, he went for it. "Listen here, Little Miss. Get back down that ladder, before you fall. Or so help me, I'll be forced to move you myself." The sudden change of tone and slight lapse of concentration, thanks to her smarting head, made Buffy fly down the rest of the ladder to wait at the bottom, just as Spike instructed. _Bloody hell, _thought Spike. _She did as she was told! _Not wanting to waste another second, for fear of Buffy regaining her alpha status, he quickly followed suit and met her at the bottom.

Buffy stood, swaying slightly from the aches and pains. She wasn't sure at this moment if it was the flu causing them or the fight she had with the vamp a moment ago. Either way, it was becoming unbearable and "having a kip", as Spike so eloquently suggested, was beginning to sound more inviting as time went on.

"Why do you have to act so tough all the time, Luv?" Spike asked softly. He reached out slowly toward Buffy, not wanting to frighten her or make her think he was planning anything. All he wanted was to keep her safe and help her get better. "C'mon, let's get you out this damp coat. It's covered in dirt from your little play fight before."

Buffy shrugged his hands away and scowled. "' Wasn't a play fight, Spike! I was slaying a vampire!"

"Oh, is that what you call it. I just assumed since he had his hands around your throat, you were into some new kinky game or something." Spike nonchalantly replied, looking at his fingernails before raising his eyebrows and looking at Buffy in mock surprise.

"I just lost my footing, that's all. It happens. I'm only human. Not like you would know how that feels!" Buffy croaked, clearly offended by Spike's little jokes.

"Ouch, baby, low blow." Spike raised his hands in defeat, taking a step back to show he meant no offence. "C'mon, I was only playin'. I meant no harm. Why don't you give me your coat, and you can watch TV? Take a breather."

Buffy hesitated. She didn't want Spike to think he'd won. After all, they weren't sleeping together anymore, and she was walking a very thin line, entering his crypt and letting him take care of her like this. Finally, her tired body protested once more, and she finally admitted to herself she could do with a break. Taking a seat in Spike's armchair, she curled her feet up underneath herself and rested her head on her hand before shutting her eyes and slowly opening them again. God, she hated being sick.

Spike watched her for a moment or two. He couldn't remember a time where she looked so vulnerable. Unless you count the time when the whole of Sunnydale turned into their Halloween costumes. Buffy had gone as a Victorian Lady. She was under the impression that Angel would want her more if she dressed like a woman from his era. God, that pillock! Spike hated the thought of Angel. Even more now he had fallen madly in love with the Slayer himself.

Buffy shivered slightly. Spike's crypt was always cold. She never noticed before. Probably because they were usually so active when they were here together. _No. Don't think about that, that's over, _she admonished herself. Such thoughts need to stay out her head, no matter how delirious this flu was making her, that part of her life was over. She told Spike to move on and she should too. She couldn't love him after all. The Slayer loving a soulless vampire were wrong.

"Buffy, Luv," Spike spoke. So softly, he was surprised she heard him.

"Mmm?" came the reply.

"I've brought you a blanket. Here." Spike draped the fleece over Buffy's shoulders and tucked her in. He took off her shoes and made sure her feet were covered by the thermal material.

"I need to go to The Magic Box. You stay under that blanket until I get back. I don't want you getting worse. Are you going to be alright without me?" Spike asked, genuine concern filling his voice. Something he hoped the Slayer noticed. He wanted Buffy to see how much he cared about her. It wasn't just about sex for him. He loved her whole being, unconditionally.

"I'm fine, Spike…just go already." Came the sleepy reply.

Spike smiled. She was half asleep now. _Good,_ he thought. _She won't be making it out of here until I get back._ But just to be sure, he gave her this warning, "If I find out you've left that chair while I've been away, you're in big trouble when I get back, young lady."

Buffy sighed petulantly but didn't respond. With a curt nod, Spike returned up the ladder and made his way to The Magic Box.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike couldn't believe his luck. Buffy was curled up, on _his_ chair, in _his_ crypt. He practically skipped along the road to The Magic Box from the sheer joy to have her back in his life. OK, so she was sick, feverish, and not there for any other reason but the fact she needed to rest. But it was _something._

Opening the door to the shop, he saw some of the Scoobies were at their usual haunt. Willow and Dawn were around the table discussing a spellbook, while Anya was behind the counter. Anya looked up and frowned. "You're cutting in fine, Spike. I'm closing in 5 minutes. What do you _want_, anyway?"

"Alright, keep yer knickers on, I'm here, aren't I? I need some more pouches, Willow keeps them in the back. Oh…and while you're at it, do you have anything for the flu?" Spike spoke quickly to avoid any unwanted questions.

Anya turned and headed to the back for the requested items, "Yeah, there's a draft that takes away coughs and soothes fevers, it's right here on this...hey! Vampires don't get flu. What are you up to, Spike?" Anya turned, hands on hips, eyeing Spike suspiciously.

At this remark, Dawn and Willow looked up from their book and listened to the conversation.

"Nothing, I'm not up to anything, it's for a friend. Yeah, that's it. A friend."

With that, Dawn got up and walked over to the counter. "Hi, Spike." She said.

"Hey Little Bit," Spike replied, smiling slightly to the younger Summers sister.

"Have you seen Buffy tonight? She wasn't well this morning, and we were worried about her patrolling. But you know Buffy! So stubborn, she couldn't take a night off!"

"Yeah, I've seen her. She's fine. In fact, I helped her out tonight. You know, because she's sick n'all. She at my place resting now. Why don't you stay with Willow? I'll make sure she gets home safely." Spike's eyes darted about. He didn't dare look at Dawn. He didn't want to arouse any suspicions or get bombarded with more unwanted awkward questions.

"If I didn't know any better Spike, I'd say you're up to no good." Stated Anya.

"Are you gunna give me the damned draft or not?!" Shouted Spike, clearly itching to get out of there as quick as he could.

Anya packed the pouches in a bag and placed it neatly on the counter. She measured out enough draft and poured it into a container, ready for him.

"Whatever you're planning, I don't want to know. It needs warming up. Here, let me." She popped it into a small microwave under the counter. "Tell your _friend_ they need to drink the whole lot like chicken broth. They'll be right as rain in no time. Here, take it."

"Thanks." Came the curt reply. Spike stalked off. Glad to be out of the shop and away from Anya's annoying questions. He didn't know why he felt so guilty. It wasn't like anything _wrong_ could happen from someone taking a bloody cold remedy for God's sake.

On the way back to the crypt, he stopped by another place and swiped some extra things he thought he'd need. Now he really had to get back to check on Buffy and make sure the little minx hadn't gotten herself in trouble while he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

When Spike reached the crypt's entrance, he sensed movement. Immediately vamping out, he wrenched open the door, ready to strike at whoever or whatever was encroaching on his space. Even if Buffy wasn't down below, this crypt was one of the best in Sunnydale, and he wasn't prepared to lose his territory in a hurry.

At that moment, a head popped up from the trapdoor. A head of blonde hair. Buffy's hair.

"Just WHAT do you think you're doing, young lady?!" bellowed Spike, immediately regretting his actions as Buffy slipped and nearly fell back down the ladder.

"Spike! You're back! I was just going patrolling again. You know, seeing as it's my job n'all."

Helping her to stand, Spike, held tightly onto Buffy's upper arm and glared at her. "I specifically told you to stay in that chair until I got back, did I not?"

"W-well. I need to patrol. I'm fine now. My headache's gone." Buffy tried desperately to loosen Spike's grip on her arm. It wasn't working.

"Don't argue with me, Slayer. You're in no fit state to be patrolling tonight. Now, I suggest you get back down that ladder, take off your boots and coat and sit back in that chair if you know what's good for you."

Buffy stood silently, mouth open in shock. Since when did she let vampires, let alone Spike, talk to her like that?

"I. Told. You. I'm. Fine." Buffy snarled through gritted teeth. Her fists balled up, ready to knock Spike into next week if he wasn't careful.

"Right then, you want to play it the hard way. We'll play it the hard way." With that, Spike grabbed Buffy's knees, lifted her effortlessly over his shoulder, and carried her down the ladder again.

Buffy was too stunned to move. When they reached the bottom and Spike had placed her firmly on her feet again, she regained her cool. "What the hell, Spike?! You can't do this! I need to be out there! This isn't a game; do you know that?" All that shouting caused her voice to break, and a new coughing fit to resume. Trying desperately to regain her breath, Buffy undid the buttons on her coat and pulled at the turtle neck of her knitted sweater. When this failed, she tried to reach for her bag to get her bottle of water in the hope that the cooling liquid would help maintain her dignity.

Spike stood, arms folded, at the foot of the ladder. He watched the scene unfold with slight amusement. _Silly little girl. Why does she have to be so stubborn?_ He thought. Reaching towards her, Spike picked up Buffy and sat her in the chair. He reached into her bag and brought out the water bottle she'd been searching for. Buffy snatched it from him and took a long drink. Glaring at him from over the rim, like a spoilt child who was finally put in her place.

"So, Little-Miss-I'm-Fine, are you ready to be a good girl and do as you're told?" Spike asked, leaning over to rest his hands on either arm of the couch, effectively trapping Buffy between.

Buffy glowered at him. She folded her arms and slammed her back into the chair to move away from the smug look on Spike's face. She hated being sick. Hated it. And now she was stuck here, being taken care of by the one person who she should be staying away from.

Sniffing, Buffy grunted some form of confirmation she wouldn't move. Happy with the outcome, Spike handed her another handkerchief and got to work unpacking the things he'd picked up from The Magic Shop and elsewhere.

"I saw Willow and 'Bit at the shop, Luv. I told them where you were, and you would be back later. 'Told them I'd take you home too." Spike had his back to the Slayer and spoke pleasantly. Buffy stayed glued to the chair with her arms folded, staring a hole in the floor.

"I bought you some goodies to get rid of that nasty bug." He started to remove the items from the bag. "Tissues, because you shouldn't use the back of your hand, Pet" Spike admonished, as Buffy blushed a deep shade of red. She couldn't believe he was talking to her this way. She wasn't a _child_! She was a grown woman! "I also got some menthol, a thermometer, and this draft from The Magic Shop. Anya said it's very good at getting rid of coughs and fevers."

"You told my friends I was _with_ you?!" squeaked Buffy. She didn't like the sound of that. What if they talked? What if they thought something was going on? She had to leave. Now.

"A-a-ah, Kitten." Spike sing-songed, waving his finger at Buffy who was trying her best at a stealthy exit. "Don't even _think_ about moving yet. If you don't start doing as you're told, I'll have to take drastic action."

"Get lost, Spike! I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself! I don't need _you_ to do it for me."

"Yeah, with the attitude you have right now, you're really proving your point, Darlin'. Look, the quicker you start cooperating, the quicker you can get out there patrolling again, OK?" Spike's voice was deadpan. Buffy felt her stomach flip. _Oh, my God!_ She thought. _Am I letting Spike take charge?_

"I can't do this. I need to go. _Now_." Buffy made to stand up again. The quick movements caused her head to ache, and the vice-like grip on her sinuses was back with a vengeance.

Spike could see he was losing the battle. Buffy wasn't used to taking orders, not even from Giles when he was her official watcher. Spike had to think quickly. He needed her to stay as much as she needed to rest.

"OK. OK. I get it. You're the Slayer, you need to be out there. But Luv, you can barely stand. At least stay and have this draft first. It's from your friends. It'll work, I promise."

Buffy eyed Spike sceptically. What was he playing at? Why was he so nice? They were over, he knew that. _I can't let him in! It's wrong._

Buffy's internal battle with her feelings was raging. She stood, hands resting on the arms of the chair for balance. Eyes boring into Spike like she could smite him where he stood. "Fine. Gimme." Came her reply.

Relief flooded Spike. _Good. At least if she did leave, this would help her._ "Sit down, I'll bring it to." He spoke, very softly, as if he was talking to a frightened animal. _Slow and steady. Nice and gentle. Don't want to spook her._

Once Buffy looked comfortable, Spike prepared the draft Anya had given him. He picked up the thermometer and brought it over to Buffy. "Open wide, Pet. Time to take your temperature." He brought the thermometer towards Buffy. She sat stock-still, arms folded, glaring at him like a sulking toddler.

"Buffy." Spike's tone of voice changed. He sounded like he was issuing another warning. "Open up, or we'll have to do this another way – and I don't think you're gunna like that, not one bit."

Buffy frowned. What did he mean, _another_ way? Well, screw him. He had no right to speak to her like that! She put her head down, chin resting on her chest. Stubbornness winning once again.

"Oh Buffy. We _are_ naughty tonight, aren't we?" Admonished Spike. Secretly loving the turn of events. Poor girl. She didn't know what lengths he would go to make her feel better. Oh well. She asked for it.

Spike placed the container and thermometer down next to the chair and reached for Buffy's wrist. Pulling her to her feet, he sat down where she was a moment ago and guided Buffy in between his legs.

"Now then, Pet. You listen to Spike now, because I'll only say this once. If you continue to defy me, you are going to find yourself in a world of trouble. And I don't mean the kind of trouble you meet on patrol. Now, you're going to open up, let me take your temperature like a good girl, or you'll find yourself over my knee, for a well-deserved spanking. I'm bloody well sick of how stubborn you are! If you still can't behave, there are other _more accurate_ ways to take a temperature, and you'll be in the right position for it too! What's it to be?"

Buffy's eyes went wide. He couldn't be serious, could he? She was far too old for a spanking for one thing and taking a temperature in _that_ position? That didn't sound good! Sighing, Buffy gave a slight nod of her head.

"What was that, Luv?" asked Spike. Clearly enjoying his small victory over the Slayer.

"Fine." Croaked Buffy. Her voice was small and weak from her coughing fit and the embarrassment over Spike's threat.

"I didn't hear you, are you saying, _yes, Spike, I'll be a good girl and do as I'm told?_" Spike grinned.

Buffy looked at him from under her eyelids. She looked pissed. "I said, fine!"

Spike nodded in acceptance. He was treading a fragile line between pushing her too far and giving her exactly what she needed. Someone to take care of her when she needed it. "Right then," he said, getting up from the chair and manoeuvring Buffy back into it again. "Open wide, we need to take your temperature to make sure the draft works. If it doesn't, I'm not sending you back out there on your own."

Buffy reluctantly opened her mouth and felt the cold glass of the thermometer slide under her tongue. Spike sat on the arm of the chair and told her to sit still for a few minutes. _God, he can be so annoying!_ She thought. _Please don't have a fever, please don't have a fever, please don't have a fever._ She prayed. She didn't want to stay in this place of temptation a moment longer.

After a few minutes, Spike removed the thermometer from Buffy's mouth. He studied the red line of mercury for what felt like an eternity before placing it on the TV. Buffy's temperature was a little on the raised side, but nothing major. Spike didn't need her knowing the ins and outs. He knew if he kept this small but significant piece of information to himself, he would have control over the current situation. Buffy was sick after all, rundown from the constant taking charge. Letting someone who cared deeply about her take charge for once, was just what the doctor ordered.

"Well?" asked Buffy, sitting forward, eager to know what the gauge had read.

Spike tapped his temple and smiled warmly at Buffy. "It's in here, Luv. Nothing for you to worry about." Spike picked up the container of draft, perched himself back on the arm of the chair, and spooned some for Buffy to drink.

Buffy looked at the steaming liquid on the teaspoon Spike was holding. He waited patiently for her to open her mouth and drink. She looked up at his face. He didn't look smug, but he wore a smile that looked like he knew he was in charge. It made her stomach flip again. _No._ She thought. _I'm not enjoying this. I'm humouring him so I can get out of here. Yeah. That's all this is. _

Slowly, Buffy opened her mouth and took the spoon. "Eww. It tastes icky!" she moaned, screwing her nose up and sticking out her tongue.

Spike gave a small laugh. "Medicine isn't supposed to taste nice, Buffy, it's supposed to make you better."

"Well I don't want it. It's gross." Pouted Buffy. She turned her head away and stared aimlessly at the TV. She desperately needed to look anywhere but Spike's smug face.

Spike lowered the spoon back into the container and leaned towards Buffy. "I thought we had this discussion, Buffy." His voice dripping with authority. "Take your medicine or I'll be forced to teach you a lesson. You're behaving like a spoilt brat."

"I'm not a brat!" huffed Buffy. Clearly not helping her argument in the slightest.

Spike raised his eyebrows again. "Oh yeah? You could've fooled me. I'll ask you one more time. Sit still and finish your medicine."

Buffy's heart was racing. Her temper wasn't great at the best of times, but when she was ill, it always threatened to erupt at the slightest thing. She sighed once more and continued to stare at the TV, ignoring Spike's threat.

"Right then, my girl. You had your warning. Come with me." And with that, Spike stood up, placed the draft next to the discarded thermometer and took hold of Buffy's wrist once more.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey! Let go! You can't make me!" Buffy's squealed, trying frantically to twist away from Spike's grip. This wouldn't be a problem usually, but the flu bug had really drained her; not to mention the lack of sleep she'd had thanks to her overnight coughing fits.

Spike lead Buffy further into his chambers. He reached his bed at the far end and sat on the end of it, pulling the wriggling girl in front of him, so they were face to face. "You know what your problem is, Slayer? You're stubborn. You think you know what's best for you when clearly, you're in no fit state to make the right decisions. I'm getting tired of you speaking to me like I'm something filthy on your shoe. You're behaving like a bratty child, and bratty children need to learn their lessons." With that, Spike pulled Buffy down over his knees.

"Lemme go Spike! You have no right! This isn't fair!"

"Life's not fair, Pet. Just look at us. You think it's fair that two people in love can't be together?"

"We broke up, Spike! I don't need you to take care of me!" Buffy shouted, ignoring the razorblades in her throat as she yelled and fought to get free.

If Spike's heart could beat, it would've skipped one. The Slayer really knew how to push his buttons. His voice remained steady as he spoke, "Don't think I can't smell your arousal when I'm around Luv. The air is thick with it. I can hear your heart beating a mile away too. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

Buffy started to kick her legs, desperate to get free. Spike ignored her efforts and dragged her closer to his stomach, trapping her wriggling body underneath his muscular forearm. Once she was held more tightly, he brought his hand down sharply on her bottom. SMACK.

Buffy immediately stopped wriggling from the shock. "Spike!" Buffy screeched.

"I told you what happens to little brats who don't do as they're told, and that's exactly what I intend to do. This isn't about who loves who, it's about teaching you how to behave."

With that, Spike started to dish out her punishment. "You could have gotten seriously hurt tonight, Buffy." SMACK SMACK SMACK "You should have stayed at home and got better" SMACK SMACK SMACK "But as usual, you're too stubborn to realise what's best for you" SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK.

Buffy gasped with each spank. It wasn't the pain that hurt, it was the lecture Spike was giving her throughout the spanking. _He thought she was stubborn!_

"I'm not stubborn! It's my job! I was doing my job!"

"You're not doing your job if you're putting yourself in danger, my girl!" SPANK SPANK SPANK "not only that, you continued making poor choices when you decided to leave my crypt when I specifically told you not to!" SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK "What would you have done if I wasn't there before, huh?" SPANK SPANK SPANK.

Buffy tried to twist away from his stinging hand and words, but it was no good. She was pinned tightly against Spike's firm stomach.

"I had it under control!" Buffy yelled.

"under control?" SPANK "that vampire was choking the life out of you!" SPANK SPANK "you're not learning your lesson fast enough, Buffy" SPANK SPANK SPANK "I will get through to you. You need to take better care of yourself" SPANK SPANK SPANK "which brings me to the issue of the medicine." SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK.

Buffy was beginning to feel the heat. Spike had covered every inch of her bottom in stinging spanks now, and he was starting to catch the same place twice. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Spike lifted his knee and upended her bottom further causing her sit spot to become more exposed. Without letting up on the lecture, he began to focus his spanks on the tender area where her bottom meets the tops of her thighs.

"The medicine Anya gave me is to help you get better" SPANK SPANK SPANK. "I know you need to do your job" SPANK "Which is why you need to take it so you can recover!" SPANK SPANK "I will not tolerate you hurting yourself any longer" SPANK SPANK SPANK "you" SPANK "stubborn" SPANK "brat!" SPANK.

With that last spank, it was over. Spike rested his hand on Buffy's behind while she lay panting over his knee. Spike could feel the heat radiating from her trousers and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She wasn't crying, oh no, Buffy could take a great deal of pain, and this was love pats compared to the stuff she'd dealt with. Spike just needed to get her attention. A good spanking complete with lecture was sure to cause enough embarrassment that she might settle down a bit.

Buffy gave a small cough and a sniff then gingerly lifted herself off Spike's lap. She stood silently between his legs, her hands reaching behind to soothe her smarting rear.

"Don't rub. Let that stand as a reminder to watch your tone, Pet." Spike stated.

"Wasn't gunna." Came Buffy's petulant reply.

When Buffy and Spike had been together, they took part in all kinds of sexcapades. It wasn't uncommon for Spike to give Buffy a few spanks while they were mid sesh. Their dark natures as Slayer and vampire made them crave hard, fast, hot sex. Spike had never taken charge out of the bedroom though. After all, the Slayer's reputation had to be upheld.

Buffy's cheeks glowed red, she was pretty sure her lower ones were doing the same too. The flu had really messed with her body and the pain she felt was uncomfortable enough that Spike's warning not to rub made her feel sorry for herself. She opted instead to move from foot to foot.

"Well, Slayer. I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet. Is it safe to say you're going to do as your told and finish your medicine?" Spike said, in a matter of fact tone.

Buffy keep her head down, eyes on the floor. Maybe if she stared hard enough, a hole would swallow her up, and she wouldn't have to deal with how the spanking made her feel. The embarrassment of it mixed with a tingling sensation down below. She hoped Spike wasn't aware of her heightened state. That would be too much.

"C'mon, why don't you lie down on the bed. I'll bring the meds, and we can try again." Spike got up and went to fetch the draft. While he was there, he remembered the menthol and brought that with him.

Buffy slowly climbed onto spikes bed. She forgot how comfy it was. For a vampire, Spike was really good at homely touches. Flopping down onto her stomach, she lay with her hands underneath her head, watching spike return with the icky medicine.

Spike returned and sat by Buffy's side. Throwing a pillow towards Buffy, he said, "Sit on that, it'll help."

Buffy took the pillow without a word, her bottom lip jutting out, ready to form a pout. Gingerly, she sat on the pillow and waited for Spike to feed her again. If she could just get through this, she'd be back outside in no time. Her arousal was being to wake up, and she desperately wanted to take out her frustrations on some demons. _You could always pounce on Spike?_ Came the voice from within. _Not likely!_ Came her reply. She really had to get out of here before she lost all her inhibitions.

Spike sat and waited for Buffy to open her mouth. Thankfully for him, she complied. "Such a good girl" Spike smiled. Buffy glared. "There's no shame in it, Pet. You just needed a bit of encouragement is all."

Buffy opened her mouth, no doubt to say something in response to Spike's quip but quickly closed it again once she saw the look he gave her. _What the hell was going on?! He's not the boss of me! I'm in charge. Me, the Slayer! _

Once the draft was gone, Spike handed Buffy another tissue. "All gone! You'll be right as rain in no time!"

Buffy removed the pillow from underneath her and launched it at Spike. "So I can go now, right? No more nurse Spike?" Buffy spat.

Spike ducked to avoid the flying object and opened his mouth in surprise. _Why did she have to be so bloody stubborn? _Sighing, he picked up the discarded pillow and placed it back on the bed. "Once it starts working, then you can go if that's what you want?" The hint of longing in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

Ignoring the pleading tone, Buffy retorted, "Of course that's what I want! I should be out there, fighting evil! Not in here, getting fed by it!"

"Fine! You know Buffy, you and I have a lot in common! You'll do well to remember that the next time you think about opening that smart mouth of yours!"

Buffy groaned. _This is hopeless! And he wonders why I can't date him!_ She thought to herself. Leaning back against the headboard, buffy brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them. Thankfully the pain in her backside was dissipating, shame about the one left in the room though, she giggled to herself.

"Something funny, Summers?"

"N-n-no, I just, w-well I meant...I just had a cough, that's all."

"Hmm," said Spike, looking down with one eyebrow raised at the mischievous Slayer.

"S-so how long do we hafta wait, Spike? I feel better already, I can just get my boots and -" a giant sneeze echoed around the underground room. "Damnit!"

Spike handed yet another tissue to Buffy. God, she was cute when she was trying to get her own way. _Joyce must've had nerves of steel when this little madam was growing up_, he thought to himself.

"Lie down for a bit, Buff. Shut your eyes, and in half an hour we'll recheck your temperature. If it's gone down enough, I'll take you patrolling." Spike collected the discarded blanket from his chair, draped it over Buffy and tucked in the edges. Smoothing down the top of her hair, he let his hand rest there a moment. "Not long, Pet, the night is still young." And with that, he moved away to let her rest in peace.


End file.
